


Cooking for Spies

by Zephyrfox



Series: In the Kitchen [1]
Category: GoldenEye (1995), James Bond (Craig movies), Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: Bored Double O, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Injured Alec Trevelyan, M/M, Protective Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-29 16:02:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15732774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephyrfox/pseuds/Zephyrfox
Summary: James Bond is away on a mission, and Alec Trevelyan is home, recuperating from an injury, where not even watching his favorite Great British Bake Off episodes can keep him from becoming bored. Q is overprotective, because wrangling an injured Double O is more difficult than herding cats. Q has an idea that will keep Alec occupied, although James might not appreciate the state of their kitchen when he gets home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kryptaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kryptaria/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Great British Bake Off: Superhero Charity Series](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463594) by [Kryptaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kryptaria/pseuds/Kryptaria). 



> This is a gift fic for Kryptaria, filling the request of Q at home, taking care of an injured Alec Trevelyan who watches episodes of _Great British Bake Off,_ while also helping James on a mission.
> 
> The episode Alec is watching is from Kryptaria's Great British Bake Off: Superhero Charity Series.
> 
> Thanks to Linorien, Jaimistoryteller, and Merindab for betaing and suggestions.

“— And we ate dinner last night watching this show, because Alec insisted. He’s become rather obsessed with it, I’m afraid.” Q tweaked the camera he was controlling to focus on James. Technically, he shouldn’t be hacking an allied country’s CCTV system simply to watch his boyfriend walk back to his hotel on a New York City street, but what Mallory didn’t know he was doing at home in his off time wouldn’t hurt him. 

“Alec? And a  _ cooking show?” _ James turned to look up at the camera, disbelief apparent on his face, even through the grainy picture.

“Yes. If we’re not careful, he’s going to leave us for one of the hosts — he has ‘gorgeous blue eyes’ apparently.”

“More gorgeous than my blue eyes? I doubt that,” James shot back, his voice full of amusement.

“You’ll have to ask Alec about that. I prefer deft hands myself,” Q teased. “He’s going to want you to watch the show with him, you know. He’s up to the sixth series, but he’s watched the fifth series twice. One of the contestants had a guillotine —”

“You have  _ got _ to be kidding me. A guillotine? Really, Q. It’s not even the first of April.”

“I’m serious, James.”

“Oh, are we Gryffindors, now? Does that mean Alec is Remus?”

Q groaned. “Stop it, that’s not funny.”

“You started it.”

“No, I did —” he broke off with a frown as the feed from the camera dropped. “That’s vexing.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Something tried to take control of the camera I’ve got on you. That won’t do at all. Don’t interrupt me for a few minutes, please.” 

He delved deeper into the internet, checking the code he was tweaking. It all seemed to be in order. No doubt it was simply a glitch due to trying to connect incompatible systems. He pressed the final key combination and brought the CCTV feed back up. The image showed James stopped by a newsstand, looking through the headlines. “I’m back, I can see you again.”

James smiled. “Never doubted you for an instant.” He paid the newsagent and tucked one of the papers under his arm as he headed off in the direction of his hotel. 

“Anything interesting in the paper?” Q switched to the next camera as James approached it.

“Just an article about a mysterious Man in a Suit that the police are trying to locate.”

Q, in the middle of reaching for his laptop so he could log the issue, stopped and looked sharply at the screen. “What? Why are they trying to find you? You’ve been in the city less than twenty-four hours. What did you do?”

“Not me,” James responded virtuously. “Someone’s borrowed my sartorial MO.”

“That’s hard to believe,” he muttered under his breath. James was the only Double O who insisted on wearing suits while on his missions. Even Alec, who prefered to wear jeans and a t-shirt, would wear whatever he needed to blend in. Although… he had heard rumours of an agent from the U.N.C.L.E., Napoleon something — obviously an assumed name — who ran up his expense accounts because he destroyed his suits while working. On second thought, perhaps agents insisting on wearing suits was more common than he’d imagined.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, just talking to myself. When will you be home?”

“About twelve hours from now. I’ll be leaving for the airport at —”

The doorbell caught Q’s attention. Odd — they weren’t expecting anyone. “One moment, please.” Once again James fell silent. Q pulled up the camera feed for their front door, only to find that it had been overridden. Was that worrying or annoying? Of the two other people besides himself authorized to override that feed, one was currently in New York, while the other was supposed to be sitting in the living room, feet up, watching a cooking show. “I’ve got to go check on Alec. If he’s walking on that ankle after I’ve told him not to, he might not live to see you when you get home. If I don’t talk to you before you leave, have a good flight. Love you!”

“Love you, too, and good luck with him!”

The rest of the flat remained worryingly quiet — he didn’t even hear the telly —  as he turned off his earpiece and shut down the computer. 

 

~~~~

 

The living room was empty save for the cats, and the television that had been playing nonstop all day was turned off. Two furry heads, one a silver tabby point Siamese, and the other an amber Somali, poked cautiously over the top of the upper level of their cat tree. It was their usual hideout spot when visitors were over. 

Muffled voices came from the kitchen. What was going on? The sounds grew louder as he turned the corner. Half-hidden by the floor-to-ceiling storage cabinet next to the kitchen door, he scanned the room. The small television on the counter was playing one of Alec’s  _ Great British Bake Off  _ episodes, and a young blonde woman he vaguely recognized from the field agent’s roster sat at the table with a slightly stunned look in her eyes and a courier bag at her feet. Alec stood — well, leaned — against the counter, holding a cookbook. Q stepped forward, narrowing his eyes. “Where’s your crutch? For that matter, why are you standing up?”

Alec placed the cookbook on the counter and grinned at him. “Two of the contestants in this episode of GBBO are doing unusual cakes — one is flourless, and the other one is made with tomatoes. I'm going to combine the two ideas and make a flourless chocolate tomato cake. Barnaby is going to be my taste tester. She's from Midsomer, where they were filming.”

Q blinked, not quite sure of what to make of a flourless cake, much less one made with tomatoes. It sounded like an experiment doomed to failure, and a terrible thing to do to poor, innocent chocolate. Wait… “Did you turn off the camera at the door?”

Alec shrugged his shoulder dismissively. “I was waiting for an order to be delivered, but when I opened the door it was young Barnaby here, which was a stroke of luck, really.” 

Barnaby… Ah yes, her first name was Cully, he remembered finally. There was something about the Midsomer connection, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. No matter, he’d remember sooner or later. 

Cully sat at the table with the frozen grin of someone who regretted every life choice that brought them to this point, and a hint of wildness around her eyes that said she knew too well the horrors of a family member's culinary experiments. Q took a breath, and instead of lecturing Alec about turning the security camera off, changed what he was about to say. “That certainly sounds like an interesting experiment, but you shouldn’t be standing on that ankle. Go sit down.“ He ignored the injured green eyes full of reproach and pointed to the chair that had the abandoned crutch leaning beside it. He turned to Cully. “Agent Barnaby, is there an official reason you’re here?”

“Oh! Yes, sir.” She took a key out of her pocket and unlocked the courier bag. “I have a package for you from Mr Tanner.”

Why had Tanner sent a courier rather than wait until he got back to the office? Q took the package she handed him. The box was roughly the size of a deck of cards. What was Tanner playing at? Then he realized — this was probably his winnings. They’d had a bet about how many vehicles James would destroy in the course of his latest mission. Q had bet in James’ favor, and Tanner, no doubt, would be grousing about insider knowledge for the next little while. He put the box in his back pocket, ignoring Alec’s look of interest, and smiled at Cully. “Thank you, Agent Barnaby. Why don’t you head back to MI6 and report to Tanner that your mission has been accomplished?”

“No!” Alec protested. “She’s going to be my taste tester.”

Cully looked at Q, her eyes widening in a mute plea, and he waved her toward the door. Her relief was palpable as she stood. “Thank you, sir!” She practically fled the flat with the air of someone who has had an unexpected reprieve from the firing squad.

Q waited for the click of the front door lock engaging, and then turned his attention back to — a thoroughly annoying man who cared nothing for his own well-being because he was now rummaging through one of the cabinets. “What are you doing?”

Alec turned around, clutching a suspiciously familiar tin. “Tomato soup!” he crowed in triumph.

“Sit down before you fall down!” Worry made his voice sharp.

“But I’m fine,” Alec protested, despite the way he leaned heavily against the counter for support.  

“Sit.  _ Down.” _

Alec heaved a put upon sigh and limped — gingerly — back to the chair. 

Q’s resolve to make Alec go back under his own power lasted for all of a nano second before he was ducking under Alec’s arm to help. “What am I going to do with you? If you don’t stay off that ankle it will take forever to heal.”

Alec turned a roguish smile on Q as he sat. “You can do anything to me that you’d like.”

“What I’d like is for you to take better care of yourself, and stay off that ankle.”

Guilt flashed across Alec’s face. “I’m sorry. I just hate sitting around with nothing to do but watch the telly. I’m bored.”

If there was one thing all Double O’s universally despised, it was enforced downtime while they healed. Q thought quickly. He needed to keep Alec distracted… Maybe if he helped make those ridiculous cakes, he could convince Alec to keep weight off that ankle. Of course, if there ended up being leftover chocolate… he was sure one of his Double O’s was inventive enough to find a use for it. He shot a wicked smirk at Alec. “I guess I’ll just have to make sure you’re no longer bored.” 

Alec raised an eyebrow. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

“First we’ll make your cakes —” 

“Cake!”

_ “Cakes, _ ” Q said firmly. “You said it was an experiment. We’re going to do it properly, and make one of each type as a control before making the modified cake. After that… I’m sure you can think of some way we can keep ourselves occupied until James gets home.”

Alec smiled, a broad grin that lit up his eyes. “My dear Quartermaster, you make the most excellent plans.” 

 

~~~~

 

James let himself into the flat, making no particular effort to be quiet. The soft beep of the security system would have repeated in several rooms throughout the flat, awakening Alec at least, and probably Q, too. Attempting any kind of stealth would pretty much guarantee one or both of them — no, only Q, since Alec could barely walk with his injured ankle — would be in the hallway with a gun pointed towards the suspected intruder. “It’s just me!” he called out as he shut the door. 

He grinned at the muffled shout from the direction of the bedroom that he got in response. Alec and Q were probably comfortable and didn’t want to get up. He’d just get a snack in the kitchen and then join them in bed. Naturally, Sineya and Inara appeared out of the shadows as soon as the little opportunists realized he was headed for the kitchen. 

They darted past him as he stopped in the doorway, stunned, when flicking on the light revealed utter chaos in the kitchen.  _ What the hell? _ It looked as though his lovers had used every pot, pan, and mixing bowl they owned, and he couldn’t be sure they hadn’t borrowed some from the neighbours. There was dried chocolate smeared on the cooktop, something that had dried in a splotch of dark red on the counter, and everything was covered with a light dusting of flour. Pieces of eggshell were piled by a cookbook, laying open and face down on the cutting board, and there was an opened tin of something sitting forlornly in the sink — probably the only item in the kitchen that had been rinsed thoroughly. Then he noticed a plastic cake container topped with a bow on the table. There was a note in front of it.

A pair of strident yowls almost had him pulling his Walther, but it was only the cats. They had taken up their usual spots flanking their feeding station, and apparently had decided that since he hadn’t fed them as soon as he entered the kitchen, they needed to make their demands known. 

“Right away, your royal highnesses,” he muttered sarcastically. Q would have fed them at their normal dinner time, so they shouldn’t be hungry, but he could give them a little something. One pair of blue eyes and one of green slitted in pleasure as the cats attacked the catnip treats he gave them. With those two satisfied, he turned his attention back to the table and picked up the paper. He chuckled at his quartermaster’s messy scrawl.

‘We thought you might be hungry after your trip, so we made you a cake. Enjoy!’ 

James grinned in anticipation as he lifted off the plastic cover, revealing a layer cake covered in uneven chocolate frosting that tried desperately to hide the lopsided sag on one side. He stared at the cake, trying to hold back his laughter. He failed. Muffled snickers escaped him until he was roaring with laughter as he collapsed helplessly into a nearby chair. When his laughter finally died down, he stood and got a plate, knife, and fork. 

Oddly enough, he found himself looking forward to trying the cake. As… unusual, as it looked, it smelled heavenly.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James wakes up his lovers. Q gets a show, and James judges Alec's cake making efforts.

 

James pushed open their bedroom door, allowing the hall light to shine into the room. The response from the bed was immediate. Q threw an arm over his face and hissed, while Alec grumbled sleepily, rolling over and pulling the blanket over his head. James lowered his voice. “You still awake? I thought you’d both be asleep.” 

“Close the door or turn the light off, it’s too bright,” Q muttered from beneath his arm. 

“I need to be able to see so I can hang up my suit.” As a peace offering, James reached behind him and turned off the hall light.

“You and your suits,” Q grumbled. In the now dim light — no room with a technophile like his quartermaster could ever be truly dark unless the power went out — James could make out a dark head looking at the clock next to their bed. Q groaned, but flipped on the lamp. “How is it even comfortable to wear a suit while you’re traveling?”

“Any suit is comfortable as long as you have a competent tailor.” James shrugged out of his suit coat and put it on a hanger in the closet, then began undoing a cufflink. Motion out of the corner of his eye drew his attention, and he realized that Q had rolled over onto his side and was watching him. He smirked. “Are you expecting a show?”

“I’ll get one as long as you keep undressing.” 

James threw his head back and laughed. He knew there were those at MI6 who thought that he and Alec were taking advantage of their poor, innocent quartermaster. If they only knew the real man, they’d be shocked. Well, if Q wanted a show…  

He undressed slowly, exaggerating his muscles as he moved, putting away each item he wore. His cufflinks and watch went into the drawer next to the closet, and he sent his shirt sailing across the room, where it ended up draped over the rim of the laundry basket.

He checked Q, who grinned appreciatively and waved his hand as if to say  _ get on with it. _ James grinned back and unbuckled his belt, sliding it from around his waist with an exaggerated tug that flowed into a smooth twist to hang up the belt. 

“Well done!”

“Prick.”

“Yep. And I’ve got a nice one.”

“That you do. But  _ I,”  _ James turned, bending slightly to showcase his backside, “have a  _ fantastic _ arse.”

He grinned at the laughter coming from the bed, and pulled his trousers off, hanging them in the closet next to the suit coat. 

“I’ve seen better shows,” Q teased.

“I didn’t hear you complaining earlier,” James shot back, turning back to face the bed. Boxer briefs and socks were next. He balled them up and dropped them into the laundry basket as he walked past it toward the bed, unselfconsciously nude.

“True. And as much as I’m looking forward to the next part of the show, stop right there.” 

“As you wish,” James said, wondering where this was going to lead. “Are you going to tell me why?”

Q smirked. “Check the pocket of your dressing gown,” he directed, a hint of anticipation in his voice.

_Strange._ Still wondering what was going on, James spun on one heel and went to the door of their ensuite, where his deep blue dressing gown hung from a hook. He checked both pockets, and pulled out a small box from one. _A present? Why?_ It wasn’t an anniversary or his birthday. He turned to Q. “What’s this?”

“A surprise, obviously.” Q rolled his eyes when James just stood there, holding the box in one hand. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go on, open it!”

“All right.” James turned the box around, inspecting it. About the size of a deck of cards, feather light, and he hadn’t heard anything rattling inside. There were flaps on either side of the box, but no indication of which was the top end. Choosing one, he opened the flap and peered inside, angling himself and the box to take advantage of the light from the lamp. A piece of paper? He frowned as he drew it out. 

“Read it,” Q said, smiling.

James unfolded the paper. It looked like a form… He read it, not quite able to believe the words, and looked at Q, a grin spreading over his face. “Really?”

“Yup,” Q said, his smile turning smug. “Authorization for me to modify any car you choose at MI6.”

“How did you get this? I thought Mallory turned down your budget request after the last time.” Which had  _ not _ been his fault. How was he supposed to know that his car had been too close to the building he had just blown up? He’d gotten his target at least, which he’d have thought would have made up for the destruction of his car — but not according to the bollocking he’d gotten from Mallory. It had actually reminded him of M at her finest.

“I have my methods,” Q said loftily.

“Thank you.” James crossed the room in long strides and bent down to kiss Q thoroughly.

After they broke apart, Q licked his lips. “Mmmm. You taste like chocolate. Did you enjoy the cake?”

“Of course he did, we made a good cake,” the lump under the covers said.

Q poked Alec in the side. “I thought you were asleep. You missed the show.”

Tousled light brown hair emerged from under the blankets, followed by green eyes blinking sleepily. “I’ve seen it all before.”

“Keep that up and you won’t see it again,” James mock threatened.

“Mmhmm,” Alec hummed, putting his head on Q’s shoulder. “What did you think of the cake?”

“Cakes, I thought,” James said. “Three layers, all different? Three cakes.”

Alec waved a negligent hand. “Technicalities.”

“I thought it was… creative. The frosting was good, and the cakes were surprisingly tasty.”

Alec poked Q. “Hah! I told you he wouldn’t be able to tell.” 

“Au contraire, my dear. After cutting myself a slice of the cake I could tell each layer was… unique, so I took a look at the cookbook.  _ And _ the notes you left on the papers you used for bookmarks. I knew what I was getting into before I took my first bite.”

Alec’s face fell. “We really weren’t trying to trick you, you know.”

“I know, love. And they were delicious. Maybe not showstopper-worthy on GBBO, but just right for us.” Warmth suffused him as Alec beamed and Q gave him a nod of approval. They may not have a traditional relationship, but, just like the cakes, it was just right for them.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The cakes Alec and Q make are real, and referenced in Kryptaria's fic. The chocolate tomato cake is also called a Thunder Cake, and while I've never made one in real life, I have made the flourless cake. It's delicious!
> 
> ~~~~
> 
> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication. Feel free to stop in to say hi - you can find me on Tumblr at leavesdancing.tumblr.com, or at my Bond fandom tumblr, zephyrfox.tumblr.com.


End file.
